The Snake Tamer
by erikablair
Summary: On Dudley's eighth birthday, Harry has a burst of accidental magic which kills the Dursley's. Concerned and wary, Dumbledore decides to place Harry with one of the few light families he trusts, the Diggory's. Constantly compared and expectedly to live up to his title 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' he starts to resent it and makes the decision to become his own person beyond his title.
1. Chapter 1

**22 June 1988**

Harry woke up blearily to the incessant rapping at his door and his aunt's shrill voice.

"Wake up, wake up you stupid boy!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry called.

Waiting to hear his Aunt's receding footsteps, Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before sitting up. He winced as his head throbbed and sharp pains laced down his back. The world was spinning, and he clutched his head in agony; the concussion obviously hadn't gone yet. Falling back on his bed, he closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. He could feel the pulsating ache in his head starting to recede and he felt relief. Biting the inside of his cheek, he silenced a groan as he forced himself into a standing position.

Reaching into the groove beside his bed, he grabbed his glasses and put them on bringing the shadows in his boot cupboard into focus and he sneered in disdain. He didn't have a lot of room for himself in the cupboard, because even though this was dubbed Harry's room, the Durley's refused to make it comfortable for him. Thus, it was stacked with the Dursley's clutter. There was only a small place for his cot, that he could only just fit onto. Shaking his head, he pushed open his door and began blinking rapidly attempting to adjust his eyes to the onslaught of light.

Limping towards the kitchen, Harry was immediately pushed towards the fridge to start the family's breakfast. Catching himself on the kitchen counter, he schooled his face into an indifferent mask pulling out the ingredients of a typical Dursley breakfast: eggs, bacon and sausages. He pulled out a pan big enough to cook them all breakfast and set it atop the stove. Lighting the stove, he made sure not to singe his fringe; he wasn't able to see much over the stove yet. Rolling up his sleeves Harry began cooking, making sure he didn't burn any of the food. The smells of breakfast made Harry's empty stomach ache and he had to keep himself from flinching as he heard the scrapings of the chairs behind him.

Vernon glared at Harry as he reached blindly for his newspaper, thinking that if he took his eyes off the freak for even a moment then some sort of unnaturalness would occur. Petunia pursed her lips in disdain at the sight of her nephew, his clothing hanging off him like filthy, matted rags. Finally, Dudley blundered in, smirking he strolled over and punched Harry in his back. Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry refused to make a sound despite the absolute agony he was in, knowing it would only make it worse. Petunia tutted at Dudley half-heartedly, while Vernon gave a nod of approval, causing Dudley to swell with pride.

Grimacing, Harry began serving breakfast on three plates and then brought them over to the table. After he served his family, Harry sat down in his seat looking on with hunger as his family consumed their breakfast. Apparently, Petunia was feeling generous because she put her plate in front of Harry with a small bit of sausage on it. Before Harry could pick it up, Dudley snatched it up from the plate and stuffed it into his already full mouth. Harry glared at his lap, fisting his hands. Hearing an angry exclamation from the table and the scraping of the chairs, Harry looked up to see that Dudley's juice has spilled all over his lap even though no one had touched it. It seemed to have fallen over all by itself.

As Petunia begun fussing over 'Dudders', Vernon fixed Harry with an expression that screamed impending violence. Harry was still staring transfixed at the liquid, as instead of spreading across the table, it seemed to look like it was being pushed away from Harry and onto the floor. His part of the table was clear of anything except Petunia's greasy plate. Vernon abruptly got to his feet and stomped over to Harry, watching as he got increasingly tense the closer Vernon got. Good. Picking up Harry by the front of his shirt, Vernon brought him close to his face until they were practically nose-to-nose.

"If you try any of this- this freakishness tomorrow, you'll wish you'd never been born. Got that_ boy?_" Vernon spat, his face increasingly going red until it was almost puce.

"Yes, sir." Harry replied, shakily.

Throwing Harry to the floor, Vernon sneered at him "good, because it's bad enough we have to bring you to the circus, because Mrs Figg got her bloody leg broken but if there's any unnaturalness tomorrow, we'll bloody well leave you there."

Vernon stalked out of the kitchen towards the living room, Dudley following him looking awestruck. He shot Harry a victorious smile before disappearing through the doorway to change his clothes. Grunting in effort Harry managed to get to his feet just as Petunia slapped him across the face. Petunia didn't hit him often, but when she did, she was malicious. Along with the stinging on his cheek from the slap, he could feel thin scratches on his face where Petunia's nails had gouged the skin. Touching his cheek silently his hands came away bloody, as he could feel the blood beading from the wound.

She had a thunderous expression on her face, "Don't touch my son with your – _freakishness_ again!" she whispered harshly.

Pointing to the door her implication was clear, get out of her sight before worse happens. Harry flew out of the kitchen door to set to work on the garden. He wouldn't be allowed back into the house until it was time to make supper.

Harry used the back of his sleeve to wipe the sweat away from his forehead. It was a warm summers' day and he had spent hours in the garden weeding and fixing up Petunia's flowerbeds, making sure they were immaculte. Hearing a car come up the driveway he deduced that Vernon was home from work and scrambled up from where he was on his hands and knees. He winced as he stretched his back, it was still bruised from the beating he had gotten the other day but was a lot better than the paralysing pain he had to begin with.

Walking inside, Petunia scrutinised his state with disgust and sent him to 'clean-up'. What that meant Harry had no idea as he was forbidden from using the shower more than once a week and had already had his one. Making a brief sound of disgust, Petunia pointed to the bucket and cloth in the laundry. When Harry reached the bucket, his lip curled, it had obviously been used for something and recently as it had mysterious clumps floating in it with only the occasional sudd. Shuddering, Harry dipped the cloth in and then rung it out, almost gagging at the dark grey colour of it. Turning around he noticed Petunia eyeing him, making sure he washed himself with the filthy water. Sighing, he began to strip down and wash his naked form. He felt more filthy washing himself with the water than before, with the only relief that it was cooling him down in the process. Finishing he gave himself a surreptitious sniff and discovered that he didn't smell like sweat anymore, instead he smelt musty.

Changing into a fresh pair of hand-me-downs he began preparing dinner. The movements were automatic, almost therapeutic and he began to lose sight of the kitchen as he got lost in his thoughts. While he was washing himself it was impossible not to notice the various marks upon his body; bruises in various stages of healing, scars littering his body and scabs from times he had picked at his wounds. Running his hands over his chest he acknowledged how he could count each one, when it came to his face he felt the overly sharp cheekbones, his sunken cheeks and finally his lightning bolt scar, which seemed to buzz with warmth every time his fingers ran over it.

Yelping he was brought back to reality as he felt a sharp pain. Looking down he noticed he'd cut quite deeply into his index finger while chopping potatoes. He quickly went to the sink to wash out the wound, standing on his toes to reach the tap. The water automatically began soothing it and Harry closed his eyes at the small reprieve. Opening his eyes, he noticed that the water was no longer tinged red but once again clear. Withdrawing his finger Harry looked to where the cut had been but was now only a thin pink line. Shrugging it off as one of those odd things that seemed to happen to him Harry continued with the dinner preparation, not lingering on the now fading line.

Dudley was whining to Petunia about the lack of food and making exaggerations of his starving and fading state. Petunia began fussing over her 'Dudders' cooing that it won't be long till dinner was ready, Harry rolled his eyes overhearing her coddling. The timer on the counter went off and Harry took that as his cue to begin setting the table for the family. After arranging each place-setting just as they each liked, Harry made his way over to the oven to take out the roast. It smelled divine and Harry could just keep himself from giving into temptation to eat the whole thing himself. Setting it down carefully he began to divvy up the portions, cutting down Dudley's slightly after Petunia gave him a lecture on how 'Dudders' needs to cut down his portion size if he's going to be playing sports. Harry scoffed at the thought, the day Dudley voluntarily plays sports will be the day Vernon serves _him_ dinner.

Setting the remaining food in the middle of the table, Harry peered into the living room to see the Dursley's engrossed on whatever was on the telly. Nodding to himself, Harry scurried to one of the lower drawers and withdrew a small sheet of foil. Harry quickly placed a small amount of everything into the foil and then slipped it under his shirt, for once being grateful of his cousin's enormous clothing. Calling out to the Dursley's that dinner was ready, Harry sat obediently in his chair hands on his lap, eyes downcast. Harry heard the scrapings of chairs around him and the clink of cutlery as the Dursley's began eating dinner.

Hearing the crossing of cutlery, Harry looked up curiously 'surely, they can't be done yet' only to catch Vernon's eye. Harry froze, wondering what he did wrong. Vernon regarded Harry in a calm that immediately set Harry on edge.

"The chicken seemed a bit dry, didn't it Dudley?" Vernon asked, keeping his eyes on Harry all the while.

Dudley nodded his head emphatically, smirking at Harry. Petunia watched warily but did nothing to intervene on the escalating tension.

Vernon's look was almost bloodthirsty as he looked at Harry, "eat it."

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry asked bewildered.

"I said eat it," Vernon pushed the plate of chicken in front of Harry to make his point.

Dudley wore an expression on his face between eagerness to see Harry punished and miserable at the now lack of available seconds. Harry eyeing Vernon cautiously speared the nearest piece of chicken on his fork before placing it in his mouth. Harry chewed slowly, never taking his eyes off Vernon. When he had finally swallowed, Vernon was showing too much teeth.

"How did it taste, boy?"

Honestly, Harry thought there was nothing wrong with it. If anything, it was quite moist but knowing that's not what Vernon wanted to hear replied, "it's a bit dry, sir."

"I'm glad you agree, now finish it."

"What?"

"I said finish it!" Vernon bellowed.

Harry began to spear more chicken onto his fork, a slight tremor in his movements. Every swallow, Vernon's smile seemed to grow leaving Harry tense waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally, when it felt like Harry couldn't possibly eat anymore without bursting Vernon gestured for Harry to come to him. Vernon stood up, looming over Harry, setting one hand on Harry's shoulder, fisting the other. Harry could feel his knees buckling beneath him, suddenly he found himself on his hands and knees retching the dinner he had just eaten. Vernon then put his foot on Harry's back and pushed down until he was lying in his own vomit. His parcel of food that he had hidden slipped out when he fell and it was now lying on the floor, partially opened.

"You little thief!" Vernon exclaimed, "

Vernon ground the heel of his shoe into Harry's spine, relishing in the choked sobs below him. Harry could hear Petunia reminding Vernon of their trip tomorrow. It wouldn't do for Harry to look to hurt, they didn't want questions. Giving Harry one last disgusted look, Vernon gave Harry a swift kick to the stomach and left to watch his shows in the living room – uncaring of the sound of retching from his _nephew_.

Petunia and Dudley sat frozen at the dinner table, looking at Harry almost transfixed as he lay in a pool of his own vomit. Petunia was the first to move, instructing Dudley to join his father in the living room before rolling Harry onto his back almost gently. Harry shuddered at the feeling of his own waste wetting his shirt but said nothing as Petunia looked him over clinically. She pushed the hair from his face, mindful to not let the vomit drenched strands touch her more than necessary. Getting a cloth from the cupboard, she wet it slightly then started to wipe away the vomit caking to his face. Once she was done she went and got several towels wrapping them around his body before picking him up and taking him to the downstairs bathroom. Vernon looking on at his wife's actions impassively as it was routine whenever he lost his temper.

Petunia placed him down on the bathroom floor as she started running the bath. Shivers were racking Harry's body as his vomit continued to seep through his shirt and the cold from the tiles under him. When the bath was filled, Petunia unwrapped Harry from the towels and placed him in the bath unconcerned about the vomit stained clothes stuck to him. She slowly peeled off his clothes, wrinkling her nose at the smell. After throwing them in the bin, she wet a flannel and started to roughly wipe away the filth and grime that had caked to the boy after days without a shower. Petunia's lips set into a thin line looking at the boy sitting dazedly in the bath, he was dangerously malnourished with his ribs sticking out of his body alarmingly and his head and joints seemed abnormally large. His small body was littered with bruises and scars. As she was lathering up his hair with shampoo, she could feel the build-up of grime in his thick tresses as he had been denied bathroom visits for over a week. His hair was thick but knotted and dry, she'll have to cut it again soon.

Towards the end of the bath, Harry's eyes fluttered briefly, and Petunia caught a glimpse of bright green eyes that reminded her so much of her sister. Before she could dwell on thoughts about Lily, she quickly went about finishing her task. Now that he was clean, Petunia lifted Harry out of the bath and onto the seat of the toilet. Roughly drying him, uncaring of the various flinches the boy gave if she pressed a bit too hard on the recently afflicted wounds. Finally done, she bade him to stay there as she fetched an old pair of Dudley's clothes. She'll have to throw the old ones out now that they were caked in blood and vomit. Finally finding an appropriately threadbare outfit, she redressed Harry and bundled him back in his cupboard. She didn't want to see him again till tomorrow, he had already taken enough of her time up tonight. Humming herself a tune, she went back to the living room to sit next to Dudley as they watched tv. All was normal again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Harry woke up with no idea how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was lying in a pool of his own vomit after Vernon's game. Running his hands through his hair and over his body, he discovered that he was in new clothes and that he didn't have vomit caked to him as expected. He actually felt clean. He realised with a jolt that Petunia must have cleaned him up after Vernon went too far. He'd like to think it was because Petunia cared, but he knew it was because they didn't want any unnecessary attention on them. Otherwise, he was sure Petunia would have just plopped in his cot, vomit and all. It wasn't the first time she had just left him in the state Vernon left him in.

Gingerly he began to sit up, taking inventory of his aches and pains. They were still present, but a lot better than he was expecting. Hearing footsteps he tensed. After some rattling of the lock, the door opened, letting in the light from outside his cupboard. Petunia crouched there, with a disappointed tilt to her mouth. Almost as if she was hoping he'd still be asleep or more preferably dead. Handing him a new set of Dudley's cast-offs she gave him a pointed look and slammed the door. Telling him without words to get changed and hurry up.

Changing he noticed that while thread-bare, the clothes were a bit better fitted than normal. Though not by much. He peered outside to see if his cousin for his whale-of-a-cousin or Vernon were around and didn't spot them and began creeping out of the cupboard to the kitchen, careful to make as little noise as possible. No one was in the kitchen yet, but he knew what was expected of him. Especially since it was Dudley's special day.

Harry began pulling the same foodstuffs as yesterday, plus the ingredients to make pancakes. Setting to pans on top of the stove he began cooking the Dursley's their breakfast. Looking around he noticed the pile of presents in the lounge room. Harry raised his eyebrows at the sheer size of the pile, it looked to be at least 20. Grumbling bitterly, Harry turned his attention back to his cooking only barely able to brace himself against the incoming punch from Dudley. Grunting slightly in pain, he bit his lip to keep from making any more noise, but Dudley soon lost interest in Harry once he caught sight of the presents.

Hulking over, Dudley began to tear into his presents. Wrapping paper tossed aside haphazardly as Dudley only wanted what was inside. Petunia cooed at Dudley, continually addressing him as 'Diddydums' much to Harry's amusement. Vernon merely stood to the side, watching Dudley with pride and occasionally casting glowering looks towards Harry. He could feel Vernon's gaze on him, but at Dudley's excited exclamations he turned his gaze, much to Harry's relief.

Once Harry had served breakfast, Petunia sent him to the lounge room to clean up the mess. Picking up the smatterings of wrapping paper, he looked back at the Dursley's longingly. Without him in the picture, they looked like a real family – affectionate and loving. Shaking his head, he went back to picking up the rubbish. His fingers closed around a piece of soft paper, it felt malleable between his fingers and it was a lovely shade of emerald green. Thinking that it seemed somewhat familiar, Harry slipped it inside his pants pocket promising himself to keep it safe.

Coming back into the kitchen he deposited all the wrapping paper in the kitchen bin, noting to himself to take it out before they leave. Looking over at the dining table he noticed that all the plates were cleaned off, even the rather large buffet size plate he had put in the middle was spared. Sighing he resigned himself to another morning of hunger and began clearing off the plates so he could wash them in the kitchen sink.

As he was coming back into the house after taking the rubbish out, he saw that the Dursley's were just about ready to go, only waiting on Dudley. After washing his hands, he approached Petunia and Vernon cautiously. Making sure to keep his distance as they waited for Dudley. Petunia barely gave him a glance of acknowledgment, instead calling out to Dudley saying they were ready to go. Vernon approached Harry, his heavy footsteps making the house shake. Placing his large hand on Harry's shoulders he roughly pulled Harry to face him, not caring of the crack he heard. Harry bit his tongue to keep from screaming, it seemed he would have to deal with a dislocated shoulder for the day as well. Vernon backed Harry into the wall behind him, looming over him. Harry shrank into himself, trying to become even smaller than he already was.

"Do you know what today is, boy?" Vernon growled.

"Dudley's birthday, sir" Harry replied, hushed.

"That's right boy, and do you know what you're meant to be doing today?"

"Stay quiet, and pretend I don't exist?"

"Good, and make sure you don't do any freakishness today boy or you'll be wishing for what I did to you earlier this week."

Harry gulped at the threat, but apparently Vernon wasn't satisfied with his silence as acceptance because he began shaking him, causing Harry's arm to flop uselessly beside him.

"Understand boy?!" Vernon screamed at him.

"Yes sir," Harry quickly replied, not wanting Vernon to have any more of an excuse to hurt him.

Vernon nodded, temporarily satisfied with Harry's answer. Vernon straightened at Dudley's entrance casting on more wary glance in Harry's direction before focusing on Dudley.

Dudley blundered over, pushing Harry harshly into the wall as he passed. Harry felt his shoulder click in at the same time his head banged against the wall, temporarily dazing him. He felt himself being dragged outside and pushed into the car. He had barely buckled up before the car was zooming to the circus. Harry had a bit of a reprieve as the Dudley was asking his parents about all the things they would get to do at the circus. Harry stared out of the window contemplating what the day would bring. His mind conjured up fanciful pictures of men on stilts breathing fire, women in colourful leotards contorting their bodies and magicians doing impossible things. He hoped he would be able to see them and not just locked in the car until the Dursley's return for the day.

Harry relaxed back into his seat, watching the English suburbs passing him by. He wondered if his parents were still alive would he be living in one of those houses? Be loved, and looking forward to his birthday like every other kid he knew, instead of living in constant fear that he might not even live to see it? Shaking off his maudlin thoughts, he began thinking about the circus again. The images made him smile.


	3. Chapter 3

When the Dursley's reached the circus, Harry was relieved. Dudley had gotten bored along the way and had taken to pinching and punching Harry in the back seat. Harry could do nothing to retaliate and was demanded he keep silent. After a murderous look from Vernon when Harry groaned as Dudley pinched a particularly sensitive bruise, Harry had taken to biting his cheek to keep the sounds in and the constant taste of blood in his mouth was beginning to make him gag.

Ambling out of the vehicle, Harry was distracted from his aching body by the immediate onslaught of sites and smells. Colours swirled and people danced, and the sounds of raucous laughter and excitable screams reached his ears. It was beautiful. Harry was interrupted from his musings by a stinging weight and noticed his Aunt's bird-like talons digging into his shoulder. Grimacing, Harry allowed himself to be dragged towards where Vernon and Dudley were standing. Vernon's face had begun to go red and when Petunia placed Harry in front of Vernon, Petunia's claws were soon replaced by his Uncle's meaty paws.

"Boy, you are not to wander off. Understand?"

At Vernon's continual shaking, Harry could merely nod. Vernon searched Harry's face for any mischievousness or dishonesty, satisfied to have found none he gave a jerky nod and then proceeded to haul him along to the large tent in the centre of the grounds. At the entrance Vernon stopped Harry from walking in, he glanced at his uncle questioningly and was pulled to the side of the entrance.

"You are to wait for us here, boy. You are not to wander off, sneak in or anything of the sort and certainly, you are not to parade your freakishness about. Understand?" Vernon harshly whispered.

Gritting his teeth, Harry gave a reluctant nod. He watched Vernon steer Petunia and Dudley into the brightly coloured tent, giving him a last warning look as he did so. Shaking off his foreboding feeling, Harry sank into soft dirt beneath him leaning against a nearby post underneath the shade of the tent to protect himself from the sweltering sun. The last thing he needs is to pass out from heat exhaustion, he knows how that story would end. Leaning back, he closed his eyes lost in his own imaginings of worlds far away and great adventures.

Excitable laughter broke him from his thoughts, looking towards the sound he caught sight of an animal show in the clearing not too far from where he was waiting. He glanced back at the tent and then towards the sky, determining he still had plenty of time till the show ended he wandered over. A man wearing obscenely bright clothes and a top hat was showing numerous animals to the crowds of awed children and adults. Slipping between the sweat-covered bodies of the crowd, he managed to find himself at the very front as the man was pulling out another animal from a large box. It was a very large snake, with black as night scales that seemed to shimmer when the sunlight caught them. Carry could see it scenting the air with its tongue, fascinated by the faint whispering of the snake he unintentionally took a few steps forward.

Spotting the small bespectacled boy, staring wide-eyed with fascination at his beauty he approached the boy and slowly kneeled in front of him as to not scare the boy or alarm his snake.

Smiling congenially at Harry, the man asked, "would you like to pet my snake?"

Harry stared at the man, unsure if this was a trick or not and if he was going to make the snake bit him or something equally as terrible. Tentatively lifting his hand, he let the man guide it in front of the snake so she could scent him. He giggled at the tickling feeling as the snake licked his hand, then slowly put his hand on her scales and stroked towards the tail. She hissed in contentment, making Harry chuckle at the pleased words she was uttering.

"She usually doesn't take a shine to anyone so quickly," the man said amusedly, "You must have a special talent with snakes."

Blushing at the praise, Harry nodded nervously before refocusing on the snake as she let out a sound of disgruntlement when he had stopped petting her distracted as he was by her owner. Looking between the little boy and his snake curiously, the man asked if Harry would like to hold her as he needed to get back to the show. The boy nodded eagerly looking as if this was the happiest moment of his life, catching sight of the fading bruises beneath his collar and the faint scratch marks on his cheek the man sadly thought that maybe it was. Instructing Harry to come closer to the middle of the circle where the man was performing, he asked him to sit down before gently laying the snake across Harry's shoulders.

"_You're beautiful!"_ Harry exclaimed, _"I wish I knew your name."_ No one paid attention to the boy conversing with the snake, distracted as the man had brought out a rather exotic and colourful bird.

The snake looked at him with lazy curiosity, _"My name is Avare young one, and yours?"_

_"I'm Harry"_

The snake nodded as if it expected as much but didn't say anything more. She was content to lie there, almost purring at Harry's attentive petting. Harry continued stroking the snake with a smile on his face, not noticing the surprised and curious looks he got from the man. Time had passed and the man was onto his last animal for the day, he usually would have put away Avare by now but seeing how content she and the boy were he decided to leave it be. He kept an eye on them regardless, ready to intervene if she showed signs of agitation. Temporarily distracted by the crowd he didn't notice as the boy tensed.

"BOY!" came the enraged shout.

Harry curled into himself defensively and began trembling.

"_What is wrong?"_ Avare hissed worriedly, noticing Harry's distressed state.

_"My uncle is wondering where I am"_, Harry replied simply.

_"That should not mean to cause you so much fear,"_ Avare hissed, wrapping protectively around the boy, _"what are you afraid of?"_

_"Punishment_._"_

Vernon had begun making his way over to Harry as he spotted him as the crowd in front of him dispersed, "Come with me boy – now," he whispered menacingly. Shakily getting to his feet he tried to unwrap Avare from around him, only for her to curl tighter as she began to rise from the position on his shoulder hissing threats at Vernon as she stared up at him. Harry began frantically hissing assurances at her, telling her he would be fine and that she needs to let go of him or it will just get worse; hissing dejectedly she asked him to bring her back to her master. Quickly thanking the man for letting him spend so much time with Avare, not noticing the man's shock as Harry spoke her name, he carefully but hastily peeled Avare's clinging coils off of him and gave her back to the man.

Walking quickly back to Vernon, Harry tried not to notice as Vernon was literally shaking with rage, his face steadily turning an unflattering shade of puce. Looking back, he noticed the man giving Harry a concerned look and quickly tried to assure the man with a smile that became more of a grimace. The man's frown deepened. Reaching his uncle, Vernon wasted no time in seizing Harry's arm and dragging him back to the car with Petunia and Dudley trailing behind. Harry was thrown into the car with barely enough time to buckle in before they were speeding back to the house. The whole way Dudley was complaining loudly how his birthday was ruined and that he hadn't even been able to go on any of the rides. At every complaint, Vernon's grip on the steering wheel got tighter and tighter until Harry could hear the leather screaming beneath his hands. Harry turned pleading eyes to Dudley, only for a cruel glint to spark making Dudley's expressions of disappointment even more ruinous for Harry's health.

After a jerky park in the drive, Harry climbed out only to see Vernon waiting for him. Resigning himself to the upcoming beating he allowed Vernon to lead him up the footpath to the house. To anyone else, he would seem like a concerned uncle, but Harry could feel Vernon's fingers digging into his shoulder; his grip was going to leave bruises. Harry was barely breathing by the time they entered the house; his breaths were shallow and rapid. His heart rate sped up as Vernon was leading him to the kitchen knowing the inherent reasoning; tile floors were easier to clean. Dudley attempted to follow them but Petunia's hand on his shoulder prevented him and he begrudgingly followed his mother to the couch, watching TV without really watching. Their attention was on the sounds that would be soon coming from the kitchen.

As soon as Vernon deemed them out of sight, he began disciplining Harry. Every insult and insinuation was accompanied by a strike, and Harry was fighting to keep himself upright. At a particularly bad kick to his shin, his knees buckled, and he slid to the floor. He instinctively curled in on himself, attempting to protect his face and ribs. Tears were streaming down Harry's face, but he made no sound, it was always worse when he made noise; but it became increasingly harder to stifle his whimpers as the beatings didn't stop, they intensified. Vernon continued to criticize Harry, saying he was worthless, a freak, a burden on his family and how they should have shipped him off when they first caught sight of him. Vernon occasionally slandered Harry's parents, saying if they weren't such useless freaks Harry wouldn't have been here, he would have been with his own kind, whatever that meant.

Harry felt his anger, his hate fester to the point of bursting. He was disgusted with himself for allowing this to happen to him, but most of all he was disgusted with his so-called family. Harry realised that in the end he would never be accepted among them, he would always be the outsider, the burden, a slave. Harry's eyes began to glow with barely concealed power, oh how much he resented his relatives, how he loathed them. Peeking between his fingers he saw Vernon's face, purple and shaking. Catching Harry's eye, Vernon smirked as he began to lift his foot in anticipation for another kick. Harry began to panic, curling into himself even tighter. Vernon could be heard laughing just above Harry's increasingly laboured breathing.

Vernon smirked cruelly at Harry, "You're barely even human boy, nothing but a freak, an abnormality. You are a burden to this family, and you will pay your dues."

Harry gritted his teeth at that comment, pay his dues! Pay his dues! He'd been paying them ever since he was born. Harry felt a resurgence of rage at the comment on how he was less than human, somehow below these disgusting, ugly people. Harry's eyes began to glow brighter and the windows started shaking – violently.

"Now you will stop this unnaturalness boy! I have half a mind to toss you out on the streets."

The windows began cracking under the weight of Harry's magic and then he saw red.


	4. Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore steepled his hands in front of his face as he contemplated the upcoming school year, it was becoming harder and harder to find replacement DADA teachers and he didn't know how long he could continue the charade that everything was fine and that all those accidents, and a particularly gruesome death, were merely coincidence. At Fawkes' inquiring trill he waved his familiar off, reaching for a lemon sherbet in the same action. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against his high-backed chair as he enjoyed his treat.

The sound of spluttering and whirring caused him to open his eyes in alarm as the instruments he used to observe the wards of Harry Potter's residence sprung to life. When they went dead a few minutes later, Dumbledore's face became ashen; what happened to the wards? What happened to Harry Potter? Fearing the worst, he began scanning the devices and determined that the blood wards were… gone. Panicking, he quickly cast a tracking spell on Harry Potter and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the boy was still at 4 Private Drive. Maybe the instruments just malfunctioned. To be certain Dumbledore flooed to the Three Broomsticks and then apparated to 4 Private Drive.

Appearing in a nearby alley, Dumbledore rushed off in the direction of 4 Privet Drive only to come to a standing halt as he observed the chaos. Thick smoke was rising from a house along the street, while that wasn't an immediate cause for concern the presence of the Ministry of Magic did. It appeared that the Obliviators from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes were out in force, obliviating nosy neighbours and the muggle's police and fire departments. A gas main broke, they said, resulting in an explosion that left no survivors. Hearing this made Dumbledore go cold, had Harry Potter died?

Slipping past the Obliviators and muggles into the ruins of the Dursley's house, made difficult due to his bright teal and magenta robes, Dumbledore picked his way through the rubble as he searched for Harry. He first came across the burnt corpses of Petunia and Dudley but other than a cursory glance to ensure Harry wasn't among them didn't give them a second thought. He found Harry in what looked to be the remnants of the kitchen, how he could tell he wasn't sure as this looked to be ground zero for the explosion. The smell of charred flesh was almost overwhelming here, as he saw Harry curled into himself next to a giant burnt husk that could only be his uncle. He spotted an Auror kneeling next to Harry talking lowly with him but getting no response. Dumbledore approached slowly before making his presence known to the low-level Auror.

"Headmaster," he stammered, "what are you doing here?"

Giving the man a genial smile, Dumbledore gave his former student the excuse of just taking a stroll in the muggle neighbourhood and noticing the Aurors came to lend any help he could.

"That's very good of you sir, but this is a closed scene and I really must insist you leave," the Auror replied.

"Come now, I'm sure you are needed elsewhere. How about you check on where those Healers are?" Dumbledore convinced, sending a subtle compulsion charm at the Auror, "I can look after young Harry here."

The Auror nodded, his eyes looking slightly glazed before rushing off to do the command that Dumbledore gave him. Looking around for something to sit on, Dumbledore sighed before conjuring a small stool. He wasn't as young as he used to be. Placing it next to Harry he sat down, not noticing Harry's tense posture and how his quiet sobbing had no gone completely silent. Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, not expecting him to violently flinch away and begin to crawl away from him. Putting a significant distance between them, Harry finally looked up at Dumbledore causing Dumbledore's breath to catch. His eyes were still glowing, bleeding with so much raw power there were visible streaks of it as he moved his head. Combined with the soot covering his face, only interrupted by tear marks and the sharp cheekbones, made even more prominent by his thinness, Harry Potter didn't look of this world.

Shaking himself out of his musings, Dumbledore refocused on Harry and noticed the child had further curled into himself at Dumbledore's assessment. Attempting to smile genially, Dumbledore began to converse with Harry or at least attempt to. The boy was either stubbornly silent or gave short, quick answers that didn't do nearly enough to satiate Dumbledore's subtle probing. Turning suddenly serious, Dumbledore finally asked what had been on his mind since he arrive.

"What happened here, my boy? Did you see someone suspicious around? Did they do this?" Asked Dumbledore, gazing around in exaggerated cautiousness, missing the vicious look that appeared on Harry's face at Dumbledore's pet name.

"No, no one else was here except me and the Dursley's," Harry replied tersely.

Dumbledore frowned at how Harry referred to his relatives but brushed it aside, the boy must be in shock after all.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, disrupting Dumbledore's line of questioning.

Giving Harry a too-tight smile, Dumbledore went on to explain how he was Headmaster at Hogwarts, the only magical school in Great Britain and widely regarded as one of the best in Europe. He then proceeded to humbly tell Harry about his many great positions in the magical world and how integral he was to the British Wizarding Community. He expected to get a look of awe, of reverence – he was not expecting the blank stare and contemptuous twist on Harry's lips.

"Magic," Harry said sceptically, "magic doesn't exist."

"Then how do you explain what happened here today Harry?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"It was a burst gas pipe," Harry answered quickly, "that's what those people are telling everyone else," he implored.

"Then how do you explain how you remained unharmed in all of this?" Dumbledore continued condescendingly. "Magic is real, my boy, and you'd do well to realise it now. Continuing to deny this part of yourself will only bring more strife and heartache."

Harry withheld the bitter laugh that wanted to escape at Dumbledore's assumptions that he had remained unharmed. "Did they know?" Harry asked, motioning towards the charred remains of his uncle, his eyes firmly kept on the ground in front of him.

Dumbledore heaved a sigh as if he were about to give a great burden to the child, "Yes Harry, they knew," he solemnly replied.

Harry curled his hands into fists and his cheek began to twitch as he processed this information. Before Dumbledore could resume his interrogation, a stern voice interrupted him.

"Out of my way, out of my way. Where is my patient?" A severe looking woman came striding forth and seeing Dumbledore speaking to the clearly agitated child made her hackles rise. Striding over, she gave Dumbledore a scathing look before crouching down between him and Harry, effectively blocking both of their lines of sight to the other.

"Hello dear, my name is Healer Junith. Do you mind if I run some diagnostic spells on you? We need to determine if you have any injuries so we can treat them," she said, soft and calm.

Harry regarded the woman in front of him oddly, before nodding in acquiesce. Pleased at his quick compliance she wasted no time in casting spells, twirling her wand in a complicated motion before doing a sharp slash down. A page started unfurling from her wand and when it was finished, she began reading only for her previously soft expression to harden. She glanced at Harry worriedly before sending off what looked to be an origami bird from her wand.

"Harry," Junith began seriously, "I found some very serious things in my assessment. I do not have the capabilities or the equipment to address it here, so I would like to ask if you would accompany me to St. Mungos? It's a magical hospital," she quickly explained over Harry's confused look.

Harry nodded meekly but before Junith could take Harry's hand Dumbledore interrupted her actions.

"Healer Junith, I know you mean well but wouldn't it be more appropriate if we apparate into the Hogwarts medibay. After all, we don't want Harry here overwhelmed by the press," he insisted.

Healer Junith rounded on him with a dangerous look, "See here Dumbledore, he is my patient and you have no jurisdiction over what I do with _my_ patients – no matter who they are."

Dismissing him and his thunderous expression she reached a hand towards Harry, noting how he was eyeing it like a poisonous snake. Explaining that she needed to hold onto him to transport him to St. Mungo's, he tentatively took her hand after one last look at the ruins of where he lived.


	5. Chapter 5

**New chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Please R&R**

* * *

Harry teetered dangerously when he landed in St Mungo's, with only the strong grip of Healer Junith keeping him upright. She guided him gently to a nearby private room, a horde of healers already stationed. Harry gulped nervously seeing the crowd of strangers but allowed himself to be led to the nearby bed where he gratefully collapsed into it, careful not to put too much weight on any single part of himself.

"Harry," Junith said soothingly, "These are my colleagues at the hospital, they're going to help me look after you. Is that okay?"

Healer Junith felt frozen as she was caught in Harry's piercing green gaze as he assessed her words, after a few seconds Harry gave a small nod and began looking at the others in the room. Nurse Junith let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, Harry's eyes seemed to be scrutinising her very soul.

At Junith's gesture, the healers began to circle Harry gesticulating wildly with the sticks in their hands, muttering lowly causing all manner of coloured lights to launch themselves at Harry. Harry kept a tight grip on himself, tensing whenever a healer got too close but allowing it. He could feel the magic, for what else could it be, absorbing into his skin, mapping him from the inside. After a while he was able to start distinguishing who had sent the magic at him from the feel of it, he could feel a uniqueness to each caster's magic and wondered if the characteristics he felt from it would reflect the caster's personality.

After a few more minutes of this, various sheets of paper started unfurling themselves from the end of the healers' wands, and they took them over to the corner to begin conversing in hushed whispers. Harry could feel his eyelids getting heavier, relaxing into the bed beneath him. He'd never been in a proper bed before and it felt much better than the lumpy, moth-eaten cot he was used to. Harry was tired, seeing him yawn widely Junith came over smiling softly.

"Just a few more minutes Harry and you can go to sleep," Junith cooed.

Sitting up Harry struggled to keep his eyes open and began leaning into Junith's side, trying to get closer to the object radiating heat. Junith smiled seeing Harry sleepy expression and began absently running her fingers through Harry's tangled curls, a motion that made Harry nuzzle into the hand like a newborn kitten.

After a few more minutes of discussion, an unknown healer approached Junith handing her a piece of parchment that made her pause in ministration that caused Harry to let out a sound of protest which immediately made her return to her motions. Reading through the list caused Junith to become increasingly tense, anger roiling through her, an emotion she didn't let bleed into the fingers brushing through Harry's hair.

"He will need to be here for at least a few weeks," whispered the healer to Junith, "but what about after? He doesn't have any family and we can't keep him here indefinitely."

Junith looked down at the boy, that was slumped into her side, his breathing slow and eyes closed showing that he was asleep.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I'm sure a lot of people will be willing to take him in once his reappearance in our world becomes public," Junith replied softly, Harry winced slightly when she seemed to brush on a bruise hidden by his hair and Junith's mouth tensed. "Go get the needed potions," she instructed the unknown healer, "we need to start on his treatment immediately."

* * *

Harry woke up with a start, breathing heavily. He was caught off guard waking up in an unfamiliar, bright white room as opposed to the comforting darkness of his cupboard. He looked around to try and ascertain where he was, it looked like a hospital, but it didn't quite fit with the flashes he had seen on TV. There weren't any machines beeping for one thing and looking around he seemed to be in a private room as there wasn't anyone else in here with him.

Frowning Harry tried to remember how he had ended up here, he doubted Vernon would have taken him here, whenever he was badly hurt Petunia just cleaned him up and shoved him in the cupboard. He doubted they would have cared if he had died in there, more concerned over the fact they would now have to do everything themselves rather than have a slave to do it for them.

Assessing himself he was surprised to find he felt better than he had in years; having had to heal from the injuries his Uncle inflicted on him by himself, for the most part, he had grown used to the feeling of having unset bones, a rattling in his chest whenever he breathed too deeply, and an almost constant ache throughout his body. Although still quite tender, it was hardly unmanageable and for the first time, Harry felt safe.

Before Harry could think more on his situation the door opened and a smiling woman entered the room with a tray laden with food floating behind her. Harry froze, his mind clicking into gear as the events that had happened yesterday slammed into him making him retch. The unknown woman gasped before quickly placing the tray on a nearby surface and coming over to run his back; nothing had come up thankfully, but the retching had only been a precursor for the impending panic attack. He heard the woman call for help, but it was distorted as if coming through water; he could see numerous shadows entering the room from his periphery but was too focused looking at his hands to truly take it in.

He remembered them covered in soot and blood, the burning husk of his uncle in front of him and the smell of burning flesh infesting his nose. He remembered a loud crack as multiple people appeared on the scene keeping people away. He remembered a young man in deep-red robes kneeling in front of him, asking his name and then paling when he heard it. He remembered an old-man sitting in front of him on a stool that wasn't there before, a man with twinkling eyes and a genial smile, a man who though tried to seem benevolent scraped against Harry's instincts and made his hackles rise, a man who told him magic was real.

He suddenly felt his something cold hit his stomach, the sensation pulling him out of his memories and then he caught sight of her. The woman who he remembered had chased away the man, the woman who had carried him here, the woman who had let him lean into her side and petted his hair till he fell asleep. She was safe.

She came towards him and reached towards him and he did not flinch as she put her hand against his forehead and looked into his eyes. He nuzzled into her hand when she laid it on his cheek and when she bade him to sleep, he closed his eyes and let her lay him down on the bed and once again began stroking his hair.


End file.
